


Tongue Thing

by PaleRose



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu's Tongue, Feels, Flirting, Hinata POV, Hinata gets interviewed and is distracted, Hinata wants to suck on Atsumu's Tongue, Innuendo, M/M, MSBY, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, did I mention there's pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleRose/pseuds/PaleRose
Summary: There’s this thing Atsumu does with his tongue. Well, things Atsumu does with his tongue, and Hinata can’t stop thinking about them.--Hinata is supposed to be answering interview questions but is thinking about Atsumu's tongue instead.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 34
Kudos: 174
Collections: AtsuHina Exchange





	Tongue Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ereana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ereana/gifts).



There’s this thing Atsumu does with his tongue. Well, _things_ Atsumu does with his tongue, and Hinata can’t stop thinking about them. He’s taken a ball to the face on more than one occasion because he’d been caught in a daydream about all the things that tongue could do—how it might feel against his skin, against his own tongue, against his… 

Despite the bloody noses and headaches, Hinata never learns his lesson and keeps thinking, _obsessing_ over Atsumu’s tongue. Hinata watches out of the corner of his eye during Atsumu's serves—follows a glimpse of pink that wets Atsumu's lips. It always becomes caught between teeth, a self inflicted restraint, as the ball is thrown high into the air and his hand connects with the ball in a _smack—_ whalloping it into an arc that sails over Hinata’s head and the net, going into play. Hinata swears he can see bite marks on Atsumu’s tongue after games, proof of his oral fixation. The temptation to pull Atsumu into an all-consuming kiss to suck the marks and taste remnants of iron makes Hinata’s blood boil during games. On his better days, the added boost of desire-infused adrenaline lets Hinata jump higher and spike harder. On his worst, he barely makes it off the court without a bloody nose. 

Hinata can easily measure Atsumu’s fervor on the court by how much of his tongue escapes. High concentration means Atsumu’s eyes are blown wide and his tongue will poke out slightly, a small _blep_ of intensity that reminds Hinata of his cat pictures. Staring into oblivion and uncovering the deepest secrets of the volleyball universe. Before a block or a set, it’s a signifier that the wheels in Atsumu’s head are turning. On a receive, his tongue just barely hangs out of the side of his mouth, only to be pulled back by turning into a triumphant smirk as he thwarts any attempt at scoring. It’s hard for Hinata to tell which is more captivating. When Atsumu taunts the opposing team, that clever tongue twists in ways Hinata didn’t even know were possible. It’s definitely a gesture that’s not meant to be sexy, more like the flick of a viper’s tongue, but it doesn’t stop Hinata’s thoughts from wandering (yet again) to the hedonistic corners of his imagination. 

When Atsumu smiles for a photo op, his tongue nearly reaches all the way down to his chin. It playfully curls ever so slightly at the tip and makes Hinata want to die. There isn’t anything more potent, more deadly, than that curl. It’s the thing that keeps Hinata up at night, staring at his ceiling and willing himself not to let his hands creep past his waistband. It’s not normal to think about your teammate’s tongue at all hours of the night, right? He should be able to quell this hunger, he’s stronger than this. Yet no matter how hard he tries, Hinata can’t unsee the image of Atsumu’s tongue stretched as far as it can go. 

The image seems to pop into his head at the absolute _worst_ moments. Like right now—he’s supposed to be paying attention to the interview questions some nice newscaster lady is asking him. Her microphone is close to his mouth, waiting for a response, but his mind is elsewhere. Elsewhere being directly across from him where Atsumu is making _that face_ again for several iPhones held by a flock of squealing fangirls. And of course, Hinata does not hear her question at all, only the thump of his heart in his ears.

“Uh…” Hinata says, eyes still on Atsumu, unaware of his blatant gawking. He hopes he wasn’t drooling... The newscaster looks over her shoulder, following the direction of Hinata’s gaze. 

_Shit._

“We train really hard!” Hinata blurts before she can figure out what he was staring at, forcing a wide grin for the camera. “The only days we have off are Saturdays! And even then, I find myself practicing jumps in my apartment.” Even if it’s not the question she asked, Hinata supposes this is a good enough answer to give. 

The newscaster raises an eyebrow and exchanges a confused shrug with her cameraman. “Um… Okay… But how do you feel about your win against the Adlers?” 

“Oh right! The win! It feels great, it’s awesome to get to play against so many old friends of mine and players I personally look up to!” Hinata tries to recover, trying his best to keep his attention on the interview and not the way Atsumu keeps smiling for the cameras, open mouthed like he’s intentionally trying to turn Hinata into the worst interviewee on the planet. 

“Very interesting. Do you have any teammates that fall into that category as well?” 

“Of course! I’ve always looked up to Bokuto-san. We had this joke back when we were in high school that I was his disciple. And Omi-san has always been on my radar as one of the top aces in Japan!” Hinata says with a smile, falling back into the step of casual conversation and successfully thwarting his horny thoughts about his teammate. 

“And what about Miya Atsumu? Your high school teams played against each other in the National Tournament twice. It must have been quite the adjustment to have a former opponent as your setter?” 

It wasn’t, though. From the moment Atsumu promised to set for Hinata all those years ago, their rivalry (if one could even call it that) ceased. Hinata can still remember the buzz in his palms he felt from the declaration—a premonition of all the spikes to come. Every encounter, every match, every moment after that was just practice for this eventual reunion with Atsumu. 

Kageyama taught him how it takes more than just talent to become the best. You need to meet your setter halfway and play to your combined strengths (and even weaknesses). It’s what makes the pair of a spiker and setter unstoppable. Kenma taught him fluidity, contrasting with Kageyama’s stingy and rigid tendencies, and the importance of believing in himself. The support Kenma has given him—all because he believes in Hinata’s potential and skill—is unmatched by anyone. Hinata considers himself to be the luckiest volleyball player in the entire world because of it. Akaashi taught him the importance of respect in the relationship between a setter and his spiker. Ever since high school, Akaashi and Bokuto-san’s partnership was the ideal, a match truly made in volleyball heaven that could bring the strongest teams to their knees. Their open communication on and off the court served as the model of what Hinata wanted so badly—someone to be there for him even after the whistle blows. And Oikawa, the Grand King himself, taught Hinata about the connection. Volleyball, regardless of where you are and who you’re playing with, requires you to make connections that will inform your playing for games to come. 

With all these lessons in mind, the moment he and Atsumu shared their first quick was like magic. A spark that set off millions of fireworks in Hinata’s body. Finally, he has someone to work with, not for. Finally, after the rejection he received from others, he doesn’t have to beg. Atsumu wants to set for him. He recognized Hinata’s talent all those years ago and saw the potential. And now, they’ve become indomitable—everything high school Hinata hoped to find one day. 

Hinata can’t stop his mouth from tugging in the corners—a private smile that could nearly give him away. “It was something, but I couldn’t ask for a better setter.” Which is exactly why he needs to keep this _tongue thing_ under wraps. Who knows what could happen if Atsumu ever found out that he thinks his magical tongue is sexy. He can’t stand to imagine being rejected by the one person he cares about more than anything, even _volleyball._ It would absolutely crush him. Even worse, the tension would probably mess up their tosses and ruin their gameplay. Hinata can’t risk the well-being of the team for his bedroom thoughts to come true. 

The newscaster nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Well, we can’t wait to see more of you on the court. Best of luck to you.” 

“Thank you, I’ll try my best!” Hinata says happily to the camera and bows. 

“We look forward to it. This is Fujimura Mihoko, signing off for J-Sports,” the newscaster says into the camera. With a final thank you and another bow from them both, she and her cameraman leave Hinata to stand alone. 

Before Hinata can even lift his head, there’s an arm around his neck and a hand in his hair giving him a painful noogie. “Well, well, well! Look at you conductin’ interviews like a champ,” Atsumu’s voice jeers from above him. 

“Uwah! Atsumu-san! Let g-go!” Hinata struggles, attempting to pry Atsumu’s arms off.

“I’m sorry? Did you say somethin’? ‘Please let me go, Atsumu-san? You’re amazin’, Atsumu-san?’” Atsumu snickers and adds more pressure to his squeeze. 

“ _Please Atsumu-san!_ ” Hinata begs, twisting his body in a futile attempt at breaking out of Atsumu’s hold. Patrons of the arena pass by and stare at them, two grown men acting like a playground bully and his victim.

“Eh, that’s good enough. Next time I’m not gonna be so nice.” Atsumu lets go of Hinata and nearly sends him colliding with the ground. Thankfully Hinata catches himself, hands and knee pads connecting with the floor. He immediately pops up and brushes himself off, attempting to fix his already wild orange spikes. 

“One of these days I’m going to mess up your hair so bad,” Hinata huffs. He knows Atsumu would freak out if anyone even touched,, let alone _messed up_ his perfect, blonde hair. Hinata would risk getting punched in the face for an opportunity to run his hands through it. 

Atsumu laughs, throwing his head back like he knows that’ll never happen. “Sure you will.” And he does it—he brushes his bangs out of his face like the cover-boy he is and winks, letting that goddamn tongue slip past his teeth. The static in Hinata’s brain returns, a low _brrrrrrrrrr_ that effectively erases his vocabulary—and he knows three languages. Heat that broils in his stomach rises up his neck, into his cheeks, and practically sets his hair on fire. Thank god his hair is already orange. 

“Whoa, you okay? What’s up with yer face?” Atsumu asks, the playfulness quickly replaced with worry, and reaches out like he’s going to feel for Hinata’s temperature. 

Hinata swats his hand away and immediately regrets it. There’s a flash of confusion and surprise on Atsumu’s face, subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone else. Hinata knows Atsumu’s tics—the blinking eyes, lips pressed in a thin line, the bob of his Adam's apple. He has to do damage control, lest Atsumu pry for answers he’s not ready to give. 

“It’s just real hot in here!” Hinata starts to fan himself emphatically as he shrugs out of his windbreaker despite the fact that the concourse is literally blasting cool air. 

Atsumu’s eyes narrow skeptically and he folds his arms across his chest. “Uh, alright. If you say so. I can’t have you gettin’ sick.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that! I swear, I’m fine!” Hinata lies, rolling his wrinkled windbreaker into a ball and holding it against his chest. Goosebumps from the cold are already breaking out all over his arms and legs, making the hair on them stand on end. He’s absolutely not fine, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to let Atsumu know he’s actually sick with a persistent desire to have Atsumu’s tongue in his mouth. 

And is doing a piss poor job at convincing Atsumu to believe otherwise.

“You better be. If you get sick, who am I gonna set for?” 

“You realize that there are other wing spikers on the team?” Other, more experienced, more capable wing spikers, to boot. Hinata doesn’t like comparing himself to the other players on MSBY, because everyone is skilled in their own right. However, there’s a part of him that still wonders if he’s actually good enough to be a part of MSBY. The childlike insecurity that he can’t seem to shake, no matter how much he improves or exceeds expectations. 

“They’re not you, though—” Atsumu cuts himself off, eyes wide. He bites the inside of his cheek and shoves his hands into the front pocket of his windbreaker like a kid that just got caught with his hand in the candy jar. “I mean… It’s just different settin’ for someone else? I can’t really explain it… It doesn’t feel right, ya know?” He licks his lips and Hinata’s eyes follow the nervous swipe of pink before it disappears. 

_Shit._

Don’t freak out, don’t lose control. Under no circumstances can Atsumu find out his obsession with the tongue thing.

“Yeah… I mean, I’m not a setter, but…” Hinata’s voice trails off as he hugs his windbreaker to his chest. He’s worked with his fair share of setters, and each of them have a special place in his heart, but Atsumu occupies the most space. How could he not?

For all their precision, effectiveness, and cunning, it’s Atsumu who gives Hinata his all on the court so freely—his attention, his support, his trust. Never in Hinata’s life has he had a partner so ready to take the journey with him. Together, they can accomplish anything. “I get what you mean,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully and ignoring the achy feeling in his sternum. 

Atsumu blinks, rigid, and turns a shade darker. There’s a beat of silence between them, long enough to feel like an eternity as strangers pass them by in slow motion. As Hinata nervously licks his own dry lips and swallows down the thick lump in his throat, he notices Atsumu’s eyes track the motion. It’s enough for Hinata to wonder, what if Atsumu also feels the tightness? If maybe, just maybe, he’s not alone in his desires. Wouldn’t that be something, if Atsumu stared at his own ceiling, thinking about how enticing _his_ tongue looks?

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to yer head, though! Can’t letcha get cocky while we’re on a winnin’ streak,” Atsumu quips, scratching the back of his head and pointedly looking over Hinata’s head after shaking the red out of his cheeks. It effectively pulls Hinata back down to reality. How stupid of him to ever think that he and Atsumu could be anything other than what they already are. 

“I should say the same for you.” Hinata throws it right back, playing into Atsumu’s casual air with a wide smile on the outside while reeling on the inside as Atsumu has the nerve to pull down on his lower eyelid, exposing the red underside towards him, and shows off his long tongue. Hinata adds this face to the many others that will surely help him lose sleep tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! Fujimura Mihoko is actually a famous mezzo-soprano from Japan and I sang in a concert with her once. Thank you Jenny for bringing so much joy to Atsuhinas everywhere, I can only hope this gift-fic brings some joy to you as wel!! Thank you to Mauren for giving this fic the once over :D


End file.
